


A House So Noble and Black

by LostGirlz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:47:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28605474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostGirlz/pseuds/LostGirlz
Summary: Sirius Black is a prisoner. Surrounded by the cold and dark, he has little to do but think about his miserable twenty-one years. It wasn't all bad, he had friends, loves, and family to brighten his life pot marked by tragedy. He focuses on happy memories while locked away on a rock in the ocean. The guilt, pain, and horror packed in his short 21 years come flooding back throughout the thirteen years he wastes away for a crime he didn't commit, away from a godson he should be raising himself.
Relationships: Alice Longbottom/Frank Longbottom, Andromeda Black Tonks/Ted Tonks, Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley, Bellatrix Black Lestrange/Rodolphus Lestrange, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Sirius Black/James Potter, Sirius Black/Marlene McKinnon
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

November 1, 1981

“How could you?”

It wasn’t the numbness that shocked Sirius. It couldn’t be. He’d been numb before, and this was nothing like what he’d felt before. Drinking himself into oblivion with Mooney, Prongs, and Wormtail after a particularly spectacular Quidditch match against Slytherin. There had been the time when he had shown up at the Potter’s house, sporting a cracked lip, a black eye, and an even more bruised pride. Even worse, only four months ago, he’d gone to James and Lily’s home for what he had assumed would be a lighthearted Sunday night dinner with Mooney. Wormtail had declined the invitation, complaining of a horrible cold. Sirius should have known better.

They were halfway through dinner when Mad-Eye’s Moody shapeless Patronus came crashing into the room, throwing the kitchen walls into an eerie blue light. Harry had reached for the orb, giggling as it twisted in the air. He recoiled and whined when Moody’s formless voice echoed throughout the house. The words seemed garbled in his ears, unfathomable, and completely ridiculous. The McKinnon's were safe in Ireland. Sirius had made sure of that. There was no way…

For several weeks after that, he drank, he smoked, he drove. Did anything to make the pain go away. Mooney showed up on a daily basis to Sirius’s house to ensure he was eating. The guilt ripped through him anytime the alcohol faded. I should have invited her to dinner. I should have insisted that she come with me. Twenty-one, he was twenty-one. He’d had everything planned out for the rest of his life. As if to remind him, Mar’s ring dug into the sensitive skin of his thigh. He gritted his teeth. The guilt was horrible, almost worse than the numbness that settled in after a while. The Potter’s went into hiding soon after that, afraid for their lives, and Harry’s.

But this feeling, it was a whole new level of dulled pain. Ash fell above, people screamed, and distantly he heard the sirens of the Muggle emergency vehicles. Bodies of Muggles caught in the crossfire were strewn across the blast radius Peter had created with his blasting charm. He stood there as if his feet were molded to the cracked concrete beneath him.

Harry, he had to find Harry, they could run. They could run and no one would be the wiser. He tried to move, but his feet wouldn’t find the command. Instead, he spat out the bile rising in his throat. He ground it under his heel. It was all horribly hysterical. It had all gone wrong so, so fast. How had it all gone away in less than six months? He shook his head furiously, trying to rid the pressure that was building in his temples, and an ugly bubble of laughter flew from his throat and suddenly he was laughing, a horrible cackle that echoed off the remainder of the buildings surrounding him. Peter is gone

Muggles hid behind cars, and in storefronts, trying to make themselves as small as possible. They thought he was the threat. Another ironic laugh choked from his mouth. He could practically taste their fear.

The popping sounds of Apparition surrounded him, and almost instantly, thirty Auror wands were directed straight at his chest.

“Where is he, Black? Peter?” A man, balding, despite his young age, demanded. Sirius shook his head. He wished he could speak, but all he could do was laugh, his wand hanging limply by his side. The man raised his wand higher, leveling it right between the eyes. It was in this minute when Sirius could care less if they all cursed him every Unforgivable in the book. He didn’t have anything else to live for. He would be with friends if they decided to end it right here. He would be with Marlene…

“I said, man, where is he? Pettigrew. Peter Pettigrew.”

“Gone, Fudge. He’s gone.” Sirius choked out, the bile growing worse, bubbling and curdling in his chest by the moment. The man bent, his face twisting his prematurely lined face, his wand still directed straight at Sirius. He nudged something with his toe, nestled in the crumpled pile of clothing Peter had left when he fled. Because of course, he had. It was his oldest trick, one that Sirius had witnessed multiple times. Sirius saw Fudge’s eyes widen, pause, and then swallow hard

“Dawlish, get a crew on clean up. Get the street back to normal before those bloody sirens reach us. Hastings, get eye witness reports from the witnesses. We’ll need the memories if we can. Then, wipe their memories. I don’t want them to remember any of this. The rest of you,” Fudge broke off, swallowing hard once again. “Escort this vermin to the Ministry. I expect Fudge will be wanting an immediate hearing for him.”

His wand was wrestled from his hand and led to a safe place to Apparition. Sirius made a point to kick the discarded robes, figuring it was his last chance to prove not everything seemed as it was. Maybe Peter hid in the folds, biding his time to run for it. No such luck. Firm, strong hands gripped his forearms like vices as they Apparated to the Ministry.

He’d been thrown unceremoniously into a cold, dark holding cell in some dark, secluded part of the Ministry, miles underground. It’d taken him several hours to recognize the telltale signs of Dementors outside his cage. The cold, frozen feeling in his chest had been there since Halloween, he’d realized the mistake of making Peter Secret Keeper. Only after he came out of the stupor did he recognize the rasping breaths and rancid smells that came from outside the bars of his prison.

He huddled in the corner of the cell, his hands wrapped beneath her arms, trying to keep his hands warm. At one point, he must have pulled Marlene’s ring from his pocket, because when the sounds of footsteps approaching reached his ears, he gripped it tight, the points digging into the tender parts of his palm, drawing pinpricks of blood.

The light blue of a Patronus charm bounced across the walls, growing brighter and brighter until a man appeared in front of Sirius’s prison. The man’s face held no pity, only anger, and betrayal. Sirius stared back blankly at his friend. He didn’t know what to say. He knew there was no point begging for mercy. His sick, twisted fate was laid out before him. Frank Longbottom rolled a parchment he’d had clutched in his hand.

“Sirius Orion Black has hereby been sentenced to life in Azkaban for the deaths of Lily and James Potter.”


	2. Noble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for coming back! This story idea came to me during Christmas break, and I ran with it. I've been up all night editing, so I apologize for any errors that you see! Please leave kudos and share it with your friends! I plan to update two times a week! Thank y'all! I wouldn't be able to do without you!

December 24, 1975

Sirius sat against the solid door, pulling his legs closer to his chest. He could hear the muted noises of his parents rowing only two floors below. What a Christmas Eve. It wasn’t like it was ever “merry and bright” at the Black home. There were no decorations around the home. No music drifted through the hallways; no friends came to call. Not that the Blacks had any friends that would even come to call. They were above such things. 

Sirius knew what Christmas was supposed to be like. He’d spent most Christmases with the lads, choosing to stay at Hogwarts. His parents never pushed for him to come home, and he preferred the warmth and cheer of the Gryffindor Tower to the bleak and grey corners of the Black Estate. However, this year, he’d been sent a formal invite (Sirius had snorted in horror when the great horned owl had appeared late the night before the Christmas holidays. He’d read the letter dramatically out loud for everyone to hear) The letter had made it clear that he was to be on the train home in the morning.  
This reason for his summons home was still unclear. The last twenty-four hours had been full of icy cold silence, and Sirius had half a mind to write to Minnie and connect the Floo in his room right to her office in Hogwarts. Sneak out while he could before shit hit the fan. Someone stumped past his door, probably Kreacher, Sirius thought to himself. He hated that elf, obsessed with his parent’s ideals, sneaking out of dark corners, bowing himself so low to his parent’s oppression, his nose shone on the end. He laid his head against the door, dreading what was coming. 

His father’s Patronus spilled into his room, a dark blue, pulsing light. “Join us downstairs for dinner. Now.” A groan escaped his mouth, kicking himself for not running when he could have. This didn’t bode well. He stood, straightening his jacket, knowing that he would already be reproached for wearing it in the first place. Black was an acceptable color to wear here, but leather, with silver buttons? It simply was not done in the Black household. They had a reputation to uphold after all. Swinging the door wide, he took a deep breath and descended the narrow stairs, past Regulus’s room which had a new sign fitted to the door. 

“Pratt,” Sirius muttered under his breath and descended to the dark basement to what he could only imagine being an interesting night. 

0-0

Regulus already sat at the dining room table, his back straight, lips in a thin straight line. Just like mummy had instructed him. The lights were low, several candles burning on plinths around the room. The best china had been set; someone important had to be joining them for dinner. Four other spots were set around the table, filling the table to occupancy. His mother and father flanked Regulus at the table, his father at the head and his mother planted on his right side. They sat close enough to put on an air of affection, but Sirius knew better. His parents did not care for each other. He’d been kept up into the night, hearing their harsh words spewed back and forth at each other from across the drawing room. Sometimes, it was followed by the sound of shattering glass and shrieking, and even worse, a harsh sound of his father’s unyielding hand against his mother’s soft and proud cheek. He did not care much for either of his parents or their ideals, but he did know how much he loathed the fact his father hurt his mother. It was bad enough Sirius and Regulus had to endure his treatments, but their mother as well? 

They showed no signs of their earlier row, sitting perfectly upright, not speaking. The tension in the room could cut a knife. Sirius lingered on the entryway, resisting the urge to bolt from the front door. He could make the distance to James’s house in no time, less if he changed into his dog form. As if noticing his son’s hesitation, his father arched one large eyebrow, his eyes drawing Sirius to his spot to the left of his father. He braced himself, and sat, albeit, in a rather stooped hunch. His mother’s already far too thin lips thinned even more, but she said nothing. They sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity, the only sound breaking the cold silence was the candles which sputtered every once in a while. It was becoming too much for Sirius who was thinking fondly of the Gryffindor common room when the sound of the doorbell clanged through the house, making Regulus jump. 

“Kreacher!” His mother called almost immediately, and with an immediate pop, the ugly house-elf appeared, already in mid bow. 

“Mistress?” He croaked, his eyes only inches from the stone floor. 

“Please invite our guests in, and have them brought to the dining room, please.” The elf bowed even lower, his nose brushing the floor before he slouched from the room, the old washcloth barely there on his thin waist. Disgust rose in Sirius’s throat, and he choked it down, turning back to his plate, staring at the silver spoons, the intricate plates, and bowls. He hated all of it. Loathed it. The sound of the door, murmuring voices, and footsteps reached them. Regulus shifted, straightening his tie while Sirius smirked. He hadn’t bothered with a tie. They made eye contact, Sirius held it before Regulus broke it quickly, staring hard at his hands in his lap. 

The door to the hallway opened to his right, and they all turned, both Sirius’s father and mother standing simultaneously. Regulus stood reluctantly, following his parents’ example while Sirius leaned back and unbuttoned the last two buttons on his rumpled white shirt. 

“Narcissa, Bella!” Mrs. Black rushed forward to greet the two beauties who stood, proud, and confident. Bellatrix wore her hair down, in an unruly mess of curls that cascaded down her back. Her eyes had a glint of euphoria that she saved for when she’d gotten her way. Sirius knew that look far too well. Narcissa on the other hand wore her hair pulled back in a long ponytail, her blonde hair flipped over one shoulder. She stood slightly behind her sister, but only slightly, her stance just as sure of herself.

His mother reached forward to kiss each one on the cheek in turn. She pulled back and eyed the other woman and man who stood slightly behind the other two. She nodded at them both, barely disguising the disgust that formed between her eyes, and just under her lip. 

“Rodolphus.” She nodded in the man’s direction, as Bellatrix leaned back, taking her hand in his. 

“You haven’t been properly introduced. This is my fiancé, Rodolphus Lestrange.” He had an angular face, sharp cheekbones, hooded eyes, his curly brown hair nearly as long as Sirius’s. His dark eyes were thrown into shadow by the lowly lit room. He bent and kissed his mother’s hand, a bit too much of an act, Sirius thought to himself, resisting yet another urge to snort. 

“We’ve met. Welcome to our home.” His father’s voice was unimpressed, icy cold. “Please, sit.” He gestured to the remaining chairs. The remaining guest, a smaller girl, with bright blue eyes, her light brown hair, straight and long against her back. She did not seem abashed that she had not been greeted like her sisters, but her posture never once faltered. She took her seat next to Sirius, flipping her hair over her shoulder. 

“Andromeda,” Sirius acknowledged her, a grin gracing his face. 

“Sirius,” She inclined her head at him as Kreacher appeared in the doorway, levitating several trays of food into the room. The bowls filled themselves with a milky white soup, almost glowing. The goblets filled as small portions of bread were deposited at every place. It was uncomfortably quiet until his mother leaned across Regulus to speak to Narcissa. 

“Dear, how is Lucius? I have loved reading about you both in the Daily Prophet.” She picked up her spoon and took a small, delicate sip of soup. Narcissa smiled, her perfect makeup not creasing once. 

“He’s doing wonderfully. He’s gotten a promotion at the Ministry, something to do with the Minister, or something or other. It’s all hush hush right now until the details are arranged, but he’s very proud of the work he’s doing.” Narcissa, just shy of twenty, had her whole life ahead of her. She had been four years ahead of Sirius at Hogwarts, and he had been cursed enough to watch her and Malfoy parade around the school, high and mighty, their hands on each other more often than off. Sirius snorted thinking of the times sniggering with the Marauders about the couple’s inability to be apart.

Everyone turned to stare at him, and he immediately picked up his spoon, shrugging. “Sorry, choked on my soup.” He could feel his father staring daggers as the conversation started back up, and Sirius focused on the bowl, fighting the urge to laugh. Andromeda kicked his foot under the table, and he risked a glance at her to see her concealing a half-smile. 

Dinner went smoothly after that, Sirius keeping his noises of disgust inside, although it gave him great pain to do so. His mother grilled both Narcissa and Bellatrix about their relationships, drinking up every sweet and juicy detail, ignoring Andromeda all together. Neither Regulus nor his father spoke much, content on listening and observing. Sirius was having a difficult time altogether. Anytime anything completely horrible was spoken, he would have to take a particularly large bite of whatever was being served at the moment to keep from responding. 

Several hours later, as Kreacher was serving dessert, his father, tired of pleasantries leaned forward, setting his spoon down. 

“So, Bellatrix, do tell us. What is the meaning of your visit?” A sharp look from his wife made him add “Not, that we’re not pleased to have you here in our home.” His wife stared at her husband, her eyes narrowing with every passing second. Bella cleared her throat, however, and Walburga turned to face her niece who had leaned forward, her left arm resting on the table, her other hand linked together with Rodolphus’s. 

“We come with exciting news. And we wanted to share with you an opportunity.” The temperature in the room seemed to drop, and Sirius gripped the knife still leftover from the dinner portion of the meal. “As you know, the Dark Lord has been gaining power, doing his best to cleanse the world of the filth that is Mudblood and Muggle alike.” She seemed to choke on the end of her sentence like it truly left a bad taste in her mouth. Rodolphus cleared his throat, and Sirius had the distinct feeling that if he had not been sitting in a formal setting, he would have spit on the floor. Andromeda, on the other hand, straightened her spine, glaring at her sister from across the table. 

Sirius’s mother nodded, “We know of his efforts. We commend the Dark Lord for it.” Bellatrix nodded her head, acknowledging her aunt. 

“Recently, the Dark Lord approached us, certain that we could be of some assistance to his cause. He has invited us with open arms.” She flipped her left arm over, revealing a tattoo, a mark on her arm of a snake protruding from the mouth of a skull. Repulsed, Sirius scooted back slightly as Rodolphus showed his identical mark. It looked branded in, the skin around it still fresh and tender. “We come tonight to offer our testaments to the Dark Lord’s cause.” 

“So, you’ve come to recruit us?” Sirius asked with a scathing tone, his voice dripping with the derision he felt boiling in his gut. 

“Sirius,” His mother bit out, making it clear that she was displeased. His hand bit into the small blades of the knife, the sting of metal against sting doing little to calm the storm. He hated it here. 

“Bellatrix, please continue, dear. I do apologize for my son’s behavior.” His cousin stared at him; her thin, elegant eyebrows raised slightly. She cleared her throat, turning towards his father, while Rodolphus started hard at Sirius, which Sirius chose to ignore. 

“Young Sirius is correct. The Dark Lord is recruiting, and as a house as noble as this one, flowing with Pureblood would be a formidable addition to the Death Eaters. Cissy has decided to wait a few months to join, given Lucius’s promotion and the liability of him losing the promotion. Although, I do not understand his infatuation with the Ministry at this point. What is more important than the work the Dark Lord has in store for the wizarding world?” 

“You know perfectly well that Lucius likes to keep his options open. Once he has settled in at the new position, we are looking forward to aligning our wills with the Dark Lord. You know this, Bella. The Dark Lord knows this.” Narcissa cut in, and Bellatrix tilted her head towards her sister. 

“And what about you, Andromeda? Have you decided to join the Death Eaters?” Orion added after a moment of silence that seemed to slice through the room. This was the first time she had been acknowledged all night. Bellatrix laughed. Loud and high pitched, very unlike her. Andromeda sat taller, ignoring her sister, and turning to Orion. 

“However opposed Bella and Cissy may be to my point of view; I have decided to keep to my own views. Far away from certain other ideals.” The disgust in her voice made it loud and clear that she despised this whole idea. 

“Dromy,” Bellatrix's voice was scorning. “Is fraternizing with a Muggleborn.” 

“Fraternizing? Is that what you call it, Bella? We are married. We’ve been married for six months. I am pregnant. Fraternizing? You’re truly off your rocker.” Her voice was hard and brittle. 

“Pregnant by Mudblood scum.” Rodolphus spat out. There was a shocked silence. They had heard nothing from him all night, but now the words that had just spewed from his mouth were hot and angry. Andromeda stood, shaking slightly. 

“I will thank you to remove your head from your ass when discussing situations that don’t concern you.” She choked out. She turned to Orion and Walburga, and Sirius was surprised to see there were tears in her eyes. “Thank you so much for dinner, I appreciate you allowing us into your home. Invitation, or no.” She then turned to Kreacher who stood in the shadows. “Thank you, Kreacher, for a wonderful meal.” Kreacher’s face contorted, and he began to whisper darkly. 

“Blood-traitor whore, speaking to Kreacher with affection. Angering my master and mistress.” If possible, Andromeda stiffened more. Acting on impulse, Sirius grabbed for her hand before she could turn to leave. She smiled slightly, squeezed his hand, and left the dining room, closing the door with a snap. 

Angry, Sirius stood as well, turning to his mother and father. “She did not deserve that. You did not even defend her.” Regulus, who had been nearly as silent as Rodolphus as throughout the whole meal, almost seemed to shrink into his seat. He hated confrontation, and the heat in the room was increasing by the second. 

“Sirius, we will not tolerate this kind of behavior or attitude.” His mother snapped. 

“What kind of behavior? Having consideration for other people and their emotions? Their life choices? The way they were born? I don’t tolerate this behavior.” He was spewing now, every emotion he had pushed down for the past sixteen years, coming out in torrents. His father stood, the table shuddering by the force. Sirius had no time to react before Orion’s hand came in contact with Sirius’s face, connecting hard with his lip. He tasted blood immediately. 

“I will not have you speak such blasphemy under this roof. Room. Now. I will deal with you later.” His father’s eyes were flaming. Sirius held eye contact with him, searching for any humane part left of his father. There was nothing. Only cold, hard anger filled the room. Sirius drew the blood in his mouth and spit, directly in the bowl in front of him, before leaving the room, kicking a chair aside, and slamming the door behind him, rattling the frame as he went.


	3. Prisoner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'all. I'm sorry for the late chapter. My life got crazy, and I lost all drive to write. Hopefully, you enjoy this chapter. I'll try and be better about writing and publishing every week! Thanks for the support and don't forget to kudos!

November 2, 1981  
There was no trial. He didn’t have to look into the Wizarding World’s eyes and see the betrayal in the eyes of wizards and witches who knew him to be the best friend of James and Lily. He wouldn’t have to see, and for that, he was grateful. It was just as well; Sirius didn’t know if he could bear to meet his eyes. His one remaining best friend thought he was a murderer. The feelings of guilt and terror had faded into a dull pain and sorrow that sat in his chest, so heavy, it felt like it weighed him down. 

The next several hours after his sentence seemed to drag by. He was left alone in the cell for several more hours after Frank turned around, disgust evident in his voice. It was as if the whole Wizarding World wanted him to disappear, to not exist. He was a symbol of betrayal of good wizards everywhere. Or that’s what they thought. He was innocent. He had to remind himself of this every once in a while when his chest began to heave with guilt. He hadn’t killed James and Lily. 

But you good as did, the ugly little voice in his head was persistent and brittle. It wasn’t wrong. He had switched. He knew how Voldemort thought. His family practically breathed the toxic ideals of the Dark Lord, so he’d backed out of being the Secret Keeper, insisting that Peter, a far less formidable wizard would do better to hide the Potter’s location. He hadn’t told anyone, convinced that it would be better to keep it all hush-hush until the crisis passed. It had been too late when he had realized Peter’s strange activity had been to cover up his traitorous tracks. 

It was sometime later in the night when two formidable-looking Aurors came and silently unlocked his cell with a wave of their wands. He was dragged roughly to the atrium where he was taken to a small room, and thin grey and black robes were stuffed into his hands. He was shoved in, ordered to don the robes, and come out immediately. There was a small bench, bolted crudely into the wall, and a distorted small mirror that was cracked in several places. He changed quietly, his heart pounding in his chest. 

He turned to the mirror after he was changed, and the little he could see was fuzzy and warped. The man standing in front of him was one he didn’t recognize. He was miserable, his long hair hanging loose in front of his face, not pulled back on his neck like he usually wore it. He stood there, silently, and blinked hard. This was his fate now. Guilty, or not. He opened the door and was lead from the Ministry. A black car waited for him around the corner from the concealed Ministry. He dragged his feet a little, pulling every last bit of fresh air he could. He’d heard the rumors of Azkaban and the dreadful conditions waiting for him. 

The sound of a trash bin falling to the sidewalk and the cry of disgust of several people stopped him in his tracks. He turned slightly to see people passing the discarded bin, casting dark looks as they passed by. 

“Punks these days.” A man with a briefcase wearing what looked to be a very expensive three-piece suit muttered under his breath. He was so preoccupied looking back at the mess behind him that he bumped into the wizard holding Sirius, causing them to break contact. 

It gave Sirius a slight second to look back, closer into the shadows, to see a small figure, a small man, skinny and worn and torn. His clothes hung off of him, his mousy brown hair standing out against the dark reddish-brown brick. There was no movement from the man, he only stood there, his eyes searching Sirius’s face.

“Moony,” The word escaped Sirius’s mouth in barely more than a whisper, but Remus clearly heard it. He stiffened, still unmoving. 

What felt like an eternity, was a split-second hesitation before his guard gained his footing, apologized to the Muggle, and had taken hold of Sirius again, pushing him towards the Ministry car. The door opened and in the split second before he was pushed into the car, he craned his neck around to look down the dark alley, to catch one single last look at Remus, but only empty brick met his eye, and the faintest of feelings the words, “How could you?” were whispered through the void. 

Too soon, he was strongarmed into the car, and the door was slammed, with only him inside. There was a black barrier that separated him from the door, keeping him from speaking to the driver. The windows were blacked out as well, letting very little light break into the cab. The drive, aided by the Ministry vehicle which should have taken several hours at least, took only three-quarters of an hour. There were no tears, there was no anger. Just numbness. He stared at the black screen separating him from the driver, his limbs felt like they were floating weightless and unattached to the rest of his body. 

He knew they were drawing near when the temperature in the car began to fall, the glass fogging and then icing over. The car finally came to a stop, and his door was opened and two Aurors were there to pull him into a small boat, rickety and shambled. The sea air whipped at Sirius’s face, the sea spray flecking against his face like little whispers of ice-cold kisses. In the distance, a dark building, shaped like a child’s clock loomed, cold and foreboding. He could only just make out small black figures circling the building, and for the first time, a gross pang of fear ripped through him. He was barely about to comprehend the feeling curdling in his stomach before he was led to the boat and a spell was cast, covering his face, and binding his body, keeping him from jumping ship the first chance he got.   
Water splashed his face and body as the boat pressed on through the waves, chilling his body to the bone, but the body bind curse kept him from shivering, even though his entire body ached. The bumping of the boat against the solid ground would have knocked him sideways, except for the Auror’s hand to keep him from keeling into the watery depths below him. They kept the body bind on him but removed the covering over his eyes as he was carried by the arms into the prison. 

The walls rose high into the sky, disappearing into the low hanging clouds far above. Little holes had been cut crudely into the side of the wall, making small windows for the prisoners to have a small glimpse of the world around them. Dementors stood guard at the doors, and if possible, the air seemed to get colder, Sirius’s already numb fingers felt as if they were about to fall off. The rattling breath emitting from underneath their hoods was the only sound besides the howling of the wind and splashing of the waves. 

As if on command, molding hands emerged from within the robes, and pulled the doors open, granting them access. Sirius shuddered, vowing to never let those hands touch him, scabbed, and gnarled as they were. Screams and howls cascaded from different cells, the guilty and condemned calling out to their new comrade. Sirius was lead higher and higher, passing cells where prisoners dressed in the same ugly gray robes stared at him or tried to reach out and grab him, an evil gleam in their eyes. 

His cell was near the top, the air thinner and colder, if at all possible. The larger dementor drew close to the bars, and a stream of cold air expelled from underneath the hood, surrounding the bars, and a door materializing out of nowhere. Its hand pushed the door open, and Sirius was lead inside, and sat on the floor, his back to the window. The door closed with a clang of finality that rang throughout the prison, and for a moment, it felt as if everything had muted. The cold breath of air from the dementor blew across the bars, locking him in. With a wave of his wand, the smaller Auror released Sirius from his body bind, and he sagged to the floor. 

He was left there, no energy to move, staring at the black wall in front of him. He wasn’t sure how long he laid there, shivering, and weak, no will to move. He had all the time in the world after all. He could move when he wanted to. He could lay here as long as he wanted. No one was waiting for him. Eventually, he dragged himself up, closer to the small sliver of a window. The waves chopped against the small sliver of rock, the clouds a constant tempest of rain and wind. He shivered again, drawing his uniform closer to him, though it did him little. 

“Well, it could be worse,” He muttered under his breath, leaning his head against the stone, and closing his eyes.


End file.
